Elsewhere

              The Prince smiled at her. “That’s very good,” he complimented. “Tomorrow, when we’re finally out of the Gap, I’ll want you hunting the Knights just in case. I don’t want to get caught in the open. I need you to contact Captain Tanner, tonight if you are up to it?”

              Laynee nodded then shivered. She approached the Prince and looked more closely at the wound in his side. The doctor was finished stitching and was beginning to clean the area. Laynee reached out and took the wet rag from her then began to clean the Prince’s wound with soft gentle strokes.

              “Captain Tanner and Zebo will be out of Manse,” she said quietly. “They should be easy to reach,” she added confidently then slowly looked up at the Prince who was looking down at her with those dark, dreamy eyes of his.

?

              de Baard woke confused and thirsty, gazing up at the canvas ceiling of the tent. At first she did not know why she was here, in bed, when it was clearly daylight, but then she made a move to rise. Pain exploded through her entire body and she dropped back on the cot, dizzy and panting. When the stars finally faded from her vision and her breathing slowed to normal she shifted her head slightly, again pain reared up at her like a guard dog on an intruder and she was still. But she managed to move her head just enough to see that she was not alone. She was in the main medical tent and in the bunk next to her was a young man who was smiling at her.

              “Doc, she’s awake,” the young man said happily. “We weren’t sure you’d make it,” he added, then pointed down at his foot. de Baard only shifted her eyes to follow his movement.

              “Busted my leg,” he informed her as Van Valencia came into her field of view.

              “Hello Cyndar,” the young Deutzani said looking down at her. “Doc Linkler will be around shortly. Are you thirsty?”

              de Baard shook her head ever so slightly and pain again bloomed in the garden of her mind, like a weed. Her eyes watered as Van turned away. He returned quickly with a bowl and a clean rag.

              “Your jaw was dislocated,” Van explained as he added a light brown powder to the water in the bowl. He mixed it up until it was dissolved. “For the pain,” he informed her.

              “And you got thirty-three stitches across your chest,” said the young man in the next bunk, ignoring the sharp look he was getting from Van, “and another twelve in your chin.”

              “Hush,” Van snapped then turned back to de Baard. “Both of those wounds will heal nicely, the wound below your left shoulder was deep and cut through a lot of muscle. It may be a while before you get full use of your arm back.”

              “But the doc said…”

              “Henry you better shut your mouth or I’ll dislocate your jaw,” Van yelled at him. Henry’s eyes went wide and he slouched back angrily.

              “Fine!” he said. Van ignored him.

              He dipped the rag in the water and held it up to de Baard’s mouth and squeezed a bit of water between her lips. Embarrassing as her situation was, the water was liquid paradise, but when she swallowed the pain once again threatened to overwhelm her. Her mouth felt as if someone tried to tear her tongue out by the roots. If she wasn’t so thirsty she would have stopped trying to swallow, the pain was so bad, but she continued, hoping that eventually the medicine Van was giving her would ease her suffering.

              After a few minutes Van held up the empty bowl and smiled at her but it was not an emotion she shared and it must have shown in her eyes because Van stood and patted her leg softly.

              “All you need is rest,” he said and left her to her thoughts.

              de Baard stared blankly at the ceiling for several minutes, anger welling up inside. Sinis tried to kill her! And when they learned of their failure they would try again.

              ‘Well two can play that game,’ Cyndar thought to herself. ‘Once the bitch is dead I think I’ll pay a little visit to Nacht.’ As she plotted her revenge and her future she did not even realize that Gwaynn’s death was no longer on her agenda. Oh, she would still kill the Fultan whore who stole his heart, but then her business resided on Sinis Island. If she survived that trial and if Gwaynn survived his little tiff with the High King then…who knew? Anything could happen.

              But first, she must regain her strength. Slowly, as if she was trying to catch a fly with her hand, she moved her left arm up and gingerly felt her face. It was heavily bandaged, rows of tight cotton wrapped around the bridge of her nose. They skipped her nostrils and mouth and then continued on around her chin. Additional bandages wrapped around the top of her head holding her jaw snuggly in place.

              She sighed. And tentatively moved her arm down and felt where the bastard’s kali cut into her chest but again all she felt were tight bandages. She rested her arm on her midriff. She made one small attempt to move her right arm, but the pain, which was hiding close by, reared up once more and bit her. So she went still. She lay there wondering how long it would take her to get back on her feet until twenty minutes later she was sleeping fitfully.

V

              “Above all he must like you,” General Clark na Gall said as the carriage rounded a corner and entered the palace grounds. He was here without his wife’s blessing for two reasons; the first was that he sympathized with the plight of the Massi people and second he had a growing hunch that when the High King succeeded in subduing his current targets he would soon turn eyes on King Marc and the Cassinni. Thus far his country had adamantly refused to go to war, despite King Marc’s great loyalty to the High King. King Marc was cautious to a fault, and though timid he had a stubborn streak. He would remain neutral if he could, but General na Gall felt that taking such a position in the face of mounting pressure from the High King was putting the Cassinni in a very dangerous position. He feared for his country and felt they would need allies very soon. If anyone asked, this was the reason he would give for bringing the Massi General, but the true force behind his decision was that he could deny his daughter nothing.

              Bock frowned. “Like me?”  He asked, as the carriage bumped along the main road to the palace. He was sitting next to Jess, facing her father whom was across from them. He tried to concentrate on what the old general was saying but every now and then na Gall’s leg would be bump electrically into his, innocently caused by the jostling carriage.

Clark nodded. “King Marc is a simple man, with simple tastes and simple reasons for his decisions. But he is also stubborn. If he takes a dislike to you, no amount of persuasion from his advisors will change his mind.”

              “Advisors,” Bock echoed flatly.

              “Yes, the King has a host of advisors. I’m one of them.”

              “You’re his favorite,” Jess said without any attempt to hide the pride in her voice.

              Clark looked at his daughter and smiled. “Perhaps…but there are many and Marc has a way of only hearing those who agree with him.”

              Bock frowned again as the carriage pulled to a stop. “Well if he’s timid and loyal to the High King, he won’t like what I have to say.”

              The Cassinni General nodded. “Your job will be challenging indeed. I suggest you go slowly…try to charm him before you request any action.”

              Bock flashed a look of concern at Jess na Gall, but she just smiled at him. “You’re charming,” she said in support, her eyes dancing with Lonogan’s and it was General na Gall’s turn to frown slightly.

              Bock stepped from the carriage, then turned and took Jess’ hand and helped her down the step. Her father followed, now paying very close attention to the interaction between the two.

              ‘My daughter has a lover,’ he thought but was not quite correct, for the two had as yet only exchanged a few kisses. Nevertheless the heat between the two young people was growing and at the moment was trying to burn a hole in Clark na Gall’s heart. But from the beginning of time, a daughter’s passion was a father’s lament.

              “General!” A voice exclaimed from the top of a wide stone staircase. Bock turned and saw a short balding man dressed in a dark navy blue uniform. He moved spryly down the stairs of the palace toward them.